Hossy, the husband of my Indian mother, is not doing well. When I was in India on November, I met a man remarkable strong for his age. Hossy turned 90 last autumn, and during the two times I have been to Bangalore, I have met a man with a life full of tales to share. Especially the first time, back in 2008. Like when he spent time as a boy as a pupil of Mahatma Gandhi. This marked Hossy´s like in many way, gave it its direction.
Trondheim and Bangalore. Two cities far, far away from each other.
But today love and prayers are flowing strong between them.
Can you feel me, can you see me, sitting there at the end of your table. Walking in your garden. Making tea in your kitchen. Looking through your bookshelves.
An outsider. Still part of your family. Part of your family because you let me be!
With tears slowly flowing down me cheeks, tears of love and gratitude, I have been looking though my photos from India. My travel diaries. My blog posts. You have given me so many wonderful memories. Memories which I will continue to bring with me.
This post will be filed under the category "India", but I also file it under "family".
Which feels good.